


I guess you've got everything now

by sylveondreams



Category: jacksepticeye - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Cheating, Dubcon Kissing, Multi, Suicidal Thoughts, bi disaster chase, he is doing his god damn best, i only know about 20 percent of what i'm talking about bc i'm high key aromantic, says fuck a lot, the middle part is just him being a bi disaster and the rest is Shit Thoughts Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 00:09:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18727660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylveondreams/pseuds/sylveondreams
Summary: Chase has a lot of regrets, and being reminded of the good times just makes everything worse.





	I guess you've got everything now

**Author's Note:**

> Work title from _Everything Now_ by Arcade Fire

The silence was worse at night. Once upon a time, he'd heard the quiet giggle of his kids from behind the closed door of their room as they pretended to be asleep. Once upon a time, he'd been happy.

But they were gone. Giggles at night, waking up early to help them get ready for school, doing his cool tricks for them and making them laugh, the expectation that when they were teenagers they'd think his cool tricks were silly and not cool because _dad_ was doing them. Being dad.

Gone.

When Chase was home in the evening, the whispering silence slowly crept into his mind, infecting it with suggestions that grew steadily worse as the night went on. 

He deserved to have his kids taken from him. He deserved to be alone. To be hurt. And the only way to deal with it was to drink more and more, to bandage the pain with whiskey until it wore off and was replaced with more alcohol.

The culmination of this nightly cycle was a very convincing suggestion for a trickshot. Impossible to miss. Spectacular in visuals, especially when slowed down. (He probably wouldn't film it.) A trickshot he couldn't miss, at point-blank range.

 ---

 "Take the shot, Brody!"

Sneakers squeaked on polished wooden floors. Bright florescent lights on the ceiling high above illuminated the ball as it whisked into the basket.

"You've got to learn how to shoot faster. Hesitate like that during a game, and you'll lose the chance." Reed clapped Chase on the back. "Good aim, though. Keep it up."

Chase caught the ball on its second bounce and trapped it between his arm and his hip. He wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Thanks, bro. Didn't think of that one myself."

"That's Coach to you. Want to wrap up for now? It's almost four."

"Fuck, yes. I need to shower before class." Chase tossed the ball to Reed, who easily caught it in one hand.

"I'll turn off the lights. Go get naked, Chase."

The locker room always smelled like feet. There was a sock on the floor under one of the benches which had been there for three years, according to some of the seniors, and Reed swore up and down that there had been a small mushroom growing on it when he'd first seen it the year before. The showers were fine, though, and as long as Chase could use them without burning his skin off, everything was good.

As Chase scrubbed his legs, Reed dropped his bag on the bench with the old sock underneath and turned on the shower next to Chase.

"I meant to ask you," Reed said, and water ran over Chase's ears to obstruct the next part of the question.

"What?"

Louder, "Would you be okay with rooming with me next year? My roommate is transferring, so I need someone new."

Chase glanced at Reed, remembered why that was a bad idea, and intently looked back at his feet. "I can't keep my room clean for shit."

"What?"

"I can't keep my room clean for shit!"

"That might bother Stacy." Reed laughed. "She's always getting on me for leaving shit everywhere. But I'm chill with that."

Chase turned off the water and grabbed his towel to rub his dripping hair. "Then probably, bro."

"Cool. Text me if you change your mind."

Reed closed his eyes, and Chase let his gaze linger on Reed for a little too long. Hot. This was going to be fucking terrible.

\---

"You're dead, Brody!"

Chase's feet pounded on the sidewalk down the middle of the quad, Reed's boxers held high in his hand.

Reed wasn't far behind him, and he was gaining on Chase. His long legs made him a little bit faster, so running from him tended to be futile. As soon as Reed had noticed Chase sneaking out of their room with his Spider-man boxers, Chase's scheme to run them up the flagpole was as good as over.

Out of the corner of his eye, Chase spotted Stacy on the steps of her dorm building, watching the pursuit. His attention snapped to her, her pretty hair and the amused smile fixed on her face.

Chase's foot caught on the gap between two sidewalk panels, and he fell, his arms flying up to catch him from smashing his face on the pavement.

Reed skidded to a stop next to him. "You okay?"

Chase sat up on his knees and examined the backs of his arms. They were shredded up and beginning to bleed. "Ow, fuck."

"You can say that again."

"Ow, fuck."

Reed gently whacked the back of Chase's head. "Shut up, you dumbass." He bent down and snatched his boxers from the ground. "Did you really just get distracted by my girlfriend? I thought that was my job, Brody."

"I can't help that she's almost as hot as you." Chase grinned up at Reed. "Bro, if she'd been chasing me and you'd been sitting there, I probably would've broken my nose on the ground."

"I'll break your nose." Reed offered a hand to help Chase up. Chase grabbed it, pulled himself up, and accidentally slammed his raw forearm against Reed's arm.

"Ouch. Jesus fucking Christ."

"You want a band-aid? I have some with Pokemon in our room."

"What are you, eight? Yeah, I'll take one. Thanks." Chase waved at Stacy.

She waved back and cupped her hands around her mouth to shout at the pair of them. "You're fucking idiots!"

"Thanks!" shouted Reed, and shoved his boxers onto Chase's head. "You have to walk back to Harris like this."

"Cool. This is great. Can I take them off my eyes?"

"I'll think about it."

 ---

 "I hate you, Brody."

Reed's breath, heavily scented of beer, was hot on Chase's face.

It was the middle of the night, and Chase had just been woken up by Reed climbing into bed on top of him, his elbows propping him up just enough that his face was a few inches from Chase's. Chase was choosing to believe this was a dream. It had to be. It was?

"Bro, what?" Chase's voice was muddied with sleep.

He could barely make out Reed's face in the dark, but the little bit of light that came in from the exterior light on the other side of the blinds showed that his roommate was staring intently at him.

"I hate you. I hate your fucking lips and everything about you."

Chase's heart skipped a beat. Well, that fucking proved this was a dream. Did his hot roommate want to kiss him? No way. Reed didn't even know Chase wasn't straight. _Reed_ was straight.

Reed leaned in and sloppily kissed Chase, the heat of his lips transferring to Chase's.

Chase gasped and wormed an arm out from underneath Reed to work his fingers into Reed's hair and keep the dream close to him.

Finally, Reed's fingers nervously felt at Chase's chest, and Chase managed to work up the will to push Reed away. "Bro, think about Stacy."

Reed sighed and sat up straight, pushing his fingers through his hair. "Don't tell her?"

"How drunk _are_ you?"

"I'm not drunk. That's illegal."

Chase put his pillow over his face. "Go to bed. Stop fucking with me."

 ---

 Reed leaned on his elbows, his palms on his forehead. "I can't fucking believe you, Chase."

Chase bit his tongue. He had nothing to say. If he spoke, it would probably fuck everything up even more.

"I thought you were my best friend, and you fucking-"

"It wasn't just my fault-" Chase blurted out before he could stop himself. He bit his tongue even harder.

Reed took his head out of his palms and glared at Chase. "I don't care whose fucking fault it was! I'm glad we're graduating in a month so I never have to talk to you again. My girlfriend? Seriously? Out of all the girls on campus!" He stood up and kicked the chair he'd been sitting on hard enough that it clattered to the floor.

Chase winced. The loud sound had alerted some freshmen on the other side of the quad, who stared questioningly at them now.

"Did you talk to Stacy about this?"

"Yes, I fucking talked to Stacy about this! You two can have each other if you want it that much. Get married for all I fucking care. Don't invite me. _Three years_ , Chase. Can't you keep it in your pants? Or, at least, for fuck's sake, don't get my girlfriend pregnant?"

Chase shrank. "I didn't-"

"I don't care if you didn't mean to!" Reed angrily snatched his bag from the table and stormed off, his fists clenched and his knuckles white. Chase sat there and stared after him. It was a good thing Reed hadn't beaten the shit out of him, although he definitely deserved it, because that would just fuck shit up even more.

Chase put his head down on the table and folded his hands on top of it, pressing his face into the table. Fuck.

 ---

 Out of all the clamor of suggestions Chase's mind raised at night, one set of them had its own voice. It hissed nastily in his ear, a distinct voice that wouldn't be distracted by television or even daylight like the rest of them would. Chase called the voice Anti, and it alone suggested the worst courses of action. Whiskey deafened Chase from what it had to say, but at his desk during the day, it still whispered in his pounding head. Nothing would placate it, Chase suspected, until he was dead and couldn't hear it anymore.

Sometimes, Chase found his hands moving of their own accord, gripping a glass so hard that the rim broke in his hand, reaching for the lockbox in the wardrobe that contained the handgun Stacy seemed to have forgotten to pick up, hovering a knife over the hand holding a vegetable still rather than the vegetable itself. He blamed that on the Anti entity. There would be no reason for Chase to do these things of his own volition. He'd never felt like this before, and he didn't want to kill himself. Anti wanted that for him.

His friends at work knew something was wrong. But telling Chase to go see a therapist was stupid. He didn't need to do that. He could solve it on his own. If he drowned everything out with alcohol, it wouldn't bother him anymore. It was that simple.

Stacy wouldn't let him see his kids again anyway. There wasn't any reason to try to be happy without them. It would never work.


End file.
